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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044802">mannequin heads and backseat drivers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/awoogah123/pseuds/awoogah123'>awoogah123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Beaches, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Driving, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hockey, Kissing, Late at Night, Light Angst, M/M, Singing, Snacks &amp; Snack Food</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:00:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/awoogah123/pseuds/awoogah123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are we doing this?” Jonathan asked as soon as they’d pulled out of his street.<br/> <br/>“I’m <i>really</i> craving some Doritos,” Patrick shrugged.<br/> <br/>“So you dragged me out in the <i>middle of the night?</i>” Jonathan exclaimed. “What the fuck, dude?”</p><p>“I guess I <i>really</i> wanted some Doritos,” Patrick smirked, a chuckle slipping from his lips.</p><p>Jonathan scowled at him.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Jonathan's feeling pretty down so Patrick drags him out to cheer him up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>mannequin heads and backseat drivers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonathan was in a bad mood, in fact, he’d go as far as to say he was in a <em>foul</em> mood. Losing games sucked, but being the <em>reason</em> your team lost sucked even <em>more.</em> If Jonathan wanted <em>any</em> chance of being scouted and then drafted he’d need to start buckling down, and that was why he resigned himself to an evening of research. He’d watch plays, make notes, and watch some more plays. Being the best on his team - bar the random off-night - was not good enough, he needed to be <em>perfect.</em></p><p>Jonathan’s parents - <em>and</em> his best friend, Patrick, for that matter - would tell him he was being too hard on himself, but Jonathan didn’t see it like that. He could relax when he was in the NHL, when he’d achieved everything he’d ever wanted.</p><p>He’d only just set up his workstation - his desk, laptop, a lamp and a <em>lot</em> of coffee if he wanted <em>any</em> chance of staying up all night - and clicked on the first video, pencil scratching against paper as he began to take notes.</p><p>Jonathan had only gotten five minutes into the first video when a noise grabbed his attention. He paused the video.</p><p>It was a rhythmic tapping noise which probably <em>wouldn’t</em> have caught Jonathan’s attention had it <em>not</em> been right outside his window. Like, <em>right</em> outside.</p><p>Jonathan had seen about this stuff in movies, he quickly scanned his room for anything he could use as an impromptu weapon, his gaze landed on the hockey stick that stood propped up in the corner of his room - sometimes being a hockey player came in handy.</p><p>He was halfway across the room - and halfway from reaching the stick - when another noise grabbed his attention. This time it was someone’s voice,</p><p>“<em>Jonny!</em>” The voice was quiet but could clearly be heard in the silence of Jonathan’s room. “<em>Jonny!</em>”</p><p>With a sigh, Jonathan’s arms dropped to his sides - he knew that voice anywhere.</p><p>If Jonathan <em>hadn’t</em> been so close to Patrick and therefore <em>hadn’t</em> known him as well as he knew himself, he would ignore the whispers, the annoying tap, and return to his desk. But Jonathan <em>was</em> incredibly close to Patrick and he <em>did</em> know him as well as he knew himself, so he <em>knew</em> that Patrick wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.</p><p>Careful not to wake his family, Jonathan crept over to the window, huffing as he pulled the curtains back. His suspicions were confirmed - Patrick clung to the tree branch that reached just outside Jonathan’s window, face split into a huge grin and golden curls glowing in the moonlight.</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d show,” Patrick said in lieu of hello once Jonathan had opened the window. Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him.</p><p>“What do you <em>want,</em> Kaner?”</p><p>“There’s no need to talk to me like that,” Patrick said, momentarily bringing both hands off the branch before realising he was in great danger of falling and then resuming his monkey grip.</p><p>“I <em>swear,</em> if you fall from that tree…” Jonathan didn’t need to follow his sentence, Patrick <em>knew</em> what Jonathan would do if Patrick got injured and couldn’t play. Jonathan didn’t captain their high school team for <em>fun,</em> you know.</p><p>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Patrick said, flashing Jonathan a wide grin.</p><p>“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Jonathan said, folding his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’ve come to collect you,” Patrick said plainly.</p><p>“<em>Collect</em> me?” Jonathan repeated, brows pulled together in a frown. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“We’re going out,” Patrick shrugged. “C’mon.”</p><p>“<em>Going out?</em>” Jonathan scoffed. “No way. It’s, like, midnight and--”</p><p>“Not scared of the dark are you, Jonny?” Patrick smirked. Jonathan scowled at him, annoyed at <em>himself</em> that he let Patrick get under his skin so much.</p><p>“<em>No,</em> of course not,” Jonathan snapped. “But I can’t, Patrick. What about my parents? If they know I’m out they’ll <em>kill</em> me.”</p><p>“They won’t find out,” Patrick shrugged.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“We won’t let them,” Patrick said, as if it was <em>that</em> simple.</p><p>“Besides, we can’t go out anyway,” Jonathan continued.</p><p>“Why not?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“We have school tomorrow,” Jonathan pointed out.</p><p>“No, we don’t,” Patrick said, mouth curving up into a smirk. “It’s Friday, Jonny.” And <em>shit,</em> why hadn’t Jonathan thought of <em>that?</em></p><p>“But--”</p><p>“Quit it, Jonny,” Patrick said, “we’re going out and there’s <em>nothing</em> you can do about it. Now hurry up and get your ass changed.”</p><p>Jonathan changed from his pyjamas into sweats with a scowl on his face - why couldn’t Patrick understand he wanted - <em>needed</em> - to stay home? His work wasn’t going to do itself, and if their team wanted <em>any</em> improvements, then Jonathan was actually going to <em>need</em> the opportunity to do that work.</p><p>“I’m not happy about this,” Jonathan muttered as he clambered out of his bedroom window. Patrick shifted further back on the branch, creating room for Jonathan.</p><p>“<em>Really?</em> I never would’ve guessed,” Patrick grinned.</p><p>The two of them climbed down the tree with as much elegance as two <em>elephants,</em> and jumped to the floor.</p><p>“Oh, and by the way,” Patrick said, clapping a hand to Jonathan’s shoulder, “you’re driving.”</p><p>“<em>Asshole,</em>” Jonathan muttered as he followed Patrick onto the street.</p><p><br/>
***</p><p> </p><p>“Why are we doing this?” Jonathan asked as soon as they’d pulled out of his street.</p><p>“I’m <em>really</em> craving some Doritos,” Patrick shrugged.</p><p>“So you dragged me out in the <em>middle of the night?</em>” Jonathan exclaimed. “What the fuck, dude?”</p><p>“I guess I <em>really</em> wanted some Doritos,” Patrick smirked, a chuckle slipping from his lips.</p><p>Jonathan scowled at him.</p><p>“<em>Okay, okay,</em>” Patrick relented, “I was worried about you.”</p><p>“<em>Worried</em> about me?” Jonathan asked with a frown.</p><p>“Yeah,” Patrick sighed, “you’re too hard on yourself sometimes and I <em>knew</em> you’d blame yourself for our loss tonight--”</p><p>“Because it was my fault,” Jonathan interrupted.</p><p>“Shut up a second, would you?” Patrick huffed, Jonathan complied, if a little reluctantly. “I didn’t want you moping around in your room all night, or <em>worse,</em> watching repeats of plays and taking notes on them.”</p><p>“I wasn’t,” Jonathan lied, but it fell on silent ears.</p><p>“Sure you weren’t, bud,” Patrick grinned. “And anyway, I <em>did</em> really want some Doritos, so I figured why not kill two birds with one stone?”</p><p>“You sound like my mother,” Jonathan deadpanned, taking his eyes off the road for a second as he turned a glare on Patrick.</p><p>“Ever stopped to think for a second that your mom might be <em>right?</em>”</p><p>“No,” Jonathan replied without hesitation.</p><p>“Of course you haven’t,” Patrick grinned, slumping back in his seat, he kicked his feet up onto the dashboard. “Now head to the gas station, I need to hit up the twenty-four hour store.”</p><p>With only a <em>grumble</em> of indignation, Jonathan put his foot on the gas, turning onto the highway.</p><p>Patrick had his window down, the wind roaring through the car and sending Patrick’s curls every which way. He shot Jonathan an easy grin which Jonathan found hard to ignore.</p><p>“And now for some music!” Patrick yelled over the wind, reaching over the console and fidgeting with the radio dial. Music started to play, barely audible over the wind, and Patrick turned the volume up, making it <em>very</em> hard for Jonathan to ignore whatever crappy pop tune was currently playing.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, letting the wind rush them, the tinny music fill his ears, and Jonathan found himself feeling more content than he had all evening. <em>Damn</em> Patrick and his stupid ability of always knowing how to make Jonathan feel better.</p><p>“This is more like it,” Patrick called, reaching over and turning the volume up even <em>more.</em> Jonathan hadn’t even <em>noticed</em> the change in music, but now Patrick had pointed out, he could hear the beginning notes of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.</p><p>The intro rolled on before Patrick turned to Jonathan.</p><p>“<em>Mama, just killed a man.</em>” Patrick mimed playing a piano as he sang.</p><p>It took Patrick the <em>whole</em> first verse before Jonathan cracked up laughing.</p><p>“Quit laughing!” Patrick called between lines, “Sing with me.”</p><p>“No fucking way,” Jonathan chuckled, grip tightening on his steering wheel.</p><p>“<em>Mama, ooh!</em>” Patrick threw his head back and sang, making Jonathan laugh all over again.</p><p>“You’re <em>crazy,</em> Kaner,” Jonathan muttered, shaking his head to himself.</p><p>“I like to say <em>really fucking cool,</em>” Patrick shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll get you singing in a minute.”</p><p>And he did.</p><p>“<em>So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye!</em>” Jonathan and Patrick sang - <em>shouted</em> - cheeks red and grinning from ear to ear.</p><p>They sang until the song finished, Patrick <em>still</em> playing his tiny invisible piano, and by the time the last notes had sounded, they were both breathing heavily, chests heaving.</p><p>“<em>Fuuuuck!</em>” Patrick shouted, craning his neck out of the window, letting the cool air wash over his flushed cheeks. “That was amazing.”</p><p>Jonathan couldn’t disagree.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Do you <em>really</em> need all of that?” Jonathan asked, eyebrows raised as he took in the heap of chips and candy Patrick held in his arms.</p><p>“Yes,” Patrick nodded eagerly. “It’s good!”</p><p>“It’s garbage,” Jonathan corrected.</p><p>“Shut it, old man,” Patrick said, pushing past Jonathan as he made his way over to the serving counter. “Tonight is about having <em>fun</em> - a strange concept, I know.”</p><p>“Maybe my idea of fun <em>isn’t</em> gorging myself on junk food,” Jonathan pointed out.</p><p>“<em>Everyone’s</em> idea of fun is gorging on junk food,” Patrick sighed, dropping the heap of food onto the counter.</p><p>They left the store, each holding a plastic bag,</p><p>“<em>Now</em> what?” Jonathan asked, already at terms with the fact that Patrick had taken over his night.</p><p>“The beach,” Patrick said, swinging the car door open and tossing his bag into the backseat.</p><p>“The <em>beach?</em>” Jonathan repeated. “But it’s, like, two in the morning.”</p><p>“It’s a good job we’re wearing hoodies then,” Patrick shrugged, flashing Jonathan a grin as he climbed into the front seat.</p><p><br/>
***</p><p> </p><p>The beach was - unsurprisingly - empty and - <em>also</em> unsurprisingly - <em>freezing.</em> Patrick wrapped his arms around his midsection,</p><p>“Remind me why you wanted to come here again.”</p><p>“Great picnic spot,” Patrick said, dropping the two plastic bags to the floor and following them a moment later. He stretched his legs out in the sand. “Come, join me,” Patrick patted the spot beside him.</p><p>“<em>Fine,</em>” Jonathan muttered, dropping to the floor beside Patrick. He took the offered bag of Reece’s Pieces and popped a couple into his mouth.</p><p>“Isn’t this great?” Patrick asked around a mouthful of Doritos. “Look how pretty the ocean looks.”</p><p>Jonathan looked at the ocean, the way the moon shone down on it, making the almost <em>black</em> water sparkle and gleam. It was beautiful, and Jonathan sure as well wouldn’t have seen this if he had stayed back home.</p><p>“Thanks for this, I guess,” Jonathan mumbled, sifting a hand through the sand.</p><p>“Don’t sound <em>too</em> grateful about it,” Patrick teased, throwing a Starburst at Jonathan’s head - he dodged. “My ego might explode.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Jonathan said, but he was smiling, and Patrick was smiling back.</p><p>Patrick looked almost <em>angelic</em> like this, his golden hair shining in the moonlight, a perfect halo, his blue eyes gleamed and his smile looked even <em>more</em> white than usual. Jonathan was entranced.</p><p>“You okay?” Patrick asked quietly, rousing Jonathan from his stupor.</p><p>“Do you really care about me?” Jonathan whispered - he didn’t know where the question had come from, but now that it was out there he wanted the answer more than <em>anything.</em></p><p>“<em>Seriously,</em> Jonny?” Patrick huffed, eyebrows flying up. “<em>Of course</em> I care about you, you’re my best friend. You know, it’s really hard for me to see you put so much pressure on yourself all the time - it’s like you’re amazing but you can’t see it.”</p><p>“I can’t,” Jonathan admitted with a shrug. “I’m <em>not</em> amazing.”</p><p>“Stop putting yourself down all the time,” Patrick said, raking a hand through his unruly curls. “You <em>are</em> amazing, <em>anyone</em> could tell you that.”</p><p>“Not <em>anyone,</em>” Jonathan mumbled, cheeks flushing. He averted his gaze to the ocean, to the water softly lapping at the shore.</p><p>“<em>Anyone,</em>” Patrick repeated. “And you’re going to get drafted, and you’re <em>going</em> to play in the NHL. I can promise you that.”</p><p>“That’s a big promise to make,” Jonathan said softly, turning back to Patrick.</p><p>“Yet it’s one that I can keep,” Patrick shrugged.</p><p>They sat in silence for a moment, eyes locked - brown on blue - just looking at one another. Jonathan’s heart swelled - how had he <em>ever</em> got so lucky?</p><p>“You know,” Jonathan said, breaking the silence. “I think I might love you, Kaner.” Jonathan hadn’t anticipated the words but now that they’d escaped his lips, he realised they were true. <em>More</em> than true.</p><p>“Really?” Patrick asked with a small chuckle. “Because I <em>know</em> I love you.”</p><p>“You do?” Jonathan asked, eyebrows flying up.</p><p>“Of course I do.”</p><p>A comfortable silence fell on the two of them, the soft sound of the waves wrapping around them, keeping the two of them in a bubble that <em>neither</em> wanted to pop.</p><p>Patrick’s hand on Jonathan’s thigh was a surprise but he welcomed it readily.</p><p>“I’m glad I made you feel better,” Patrick whispered, giving Jonathan’s thigh a little squeeze.</p><p>“You made me feel a <em>lot</em> better,” Jonathan confirmed, relaxing under Patrick’s touch.</p><p>“Can I do something that will make you feel even <em>better?</em>” Patrick asked quietly, intense gaze bouncing between Jonathan’s dark eyes and his lips.</p><p>“Yes,” Jonathan breathed, mouth splitting into a grin.</p><p>Jonathan couldn’t think of anything better to lift his spirits than sitting on the beach at two o’clock in the morning, stomach full of candy, voice hoarse from singing at the top of his lungs, kissing his best friend. He wouldn’t change it for the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title (and story) is based on Hey, Kid! by Phoneboy.</p><p>I hope you enjoyed this, it was pretty rushed so apologies for that but I've been thinking of this on and off for a while now!<br/>Kudos and comments are appreciated!&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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